


...in other words

by neverminetohold



Series: Dragon Age: Inquisition - Aiden Lavellan & Cullen [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Headcanon, Humor, M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Outsider, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-21
Updated: 2015-03-21
Packaged: 2018-03-18 21:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3585441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverminetohold/pseuds/neverminetohold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyrium grants Templars near immunity to magic and the ability to dispel it. It is also addictive, physically changes them. And everything, always, comes at a price...</p>
            </blockquote>





	...in other words

Dorian caught himself on the wall, muttering curses in Tevene that would have had his dear old mother faint dead away. He lifted his boot to inspect the sole, intent to find out what had made him slip and nearly fall, but his keen eyes had already spotted the trail of blood that led down the corridor.  
  
He stared at it with narrowed eyes and a sinking feeling of foreboding: judging by its color, it had just started to congeal. A faint scent of copper hung in the air.  
  
"What the --?!"  
  
Dorian jumped as a scream and loud commotion disturbed Skyhold's evening peace. He had paid it not much heed at the time, but now he remembered that the rooms set aside for the healers and their patients lay just up ahead. Not quite a full-fledged hospital, as staff and equipment went, but knowing the Inquisition, it was only a matter of time.  
  
Wait - wasn't it today, that Cullen had taken his raw recruits on that inane field exercise?  
  
They had yipped and frolicked like overexcited puppies, cute in a way, but the ruckus had been incentive enough for Dorian to forestall any invitation to tag along by sequestering himself in the library.  
  
"Well, I'd only be in the way," Dorian muttered to his distorted reflection on a golden Andraste ornament and turned around. "Even for a talented genius like myself, being both necromancer and healer is too much to ask."  
  
But then more shouts rose, and hearing Cassandra sounding so frantic among them in tandem with the title of "Commander" that belonged to his favorite chess partner, - it was enough to make Dorian start running.  
  
"Damn you southern barbarians! Look what you've done, making me care!"  
  
XXX  
  
Cullen leafed through a towering stack of reports: relief efforts, lists of supplies and requirements, updates on Skyhold's reconstruction, troop movements of both Venatori and Red Templars, next week's training regimen, and a rough outline for the planned field exercise for the raw recruits.  
  
The sun was setting. His back and shoulders were tense, armor chafing no matter how well-fitted, and the candles placed on his desk were reduced to their wicks, guttering in pools of molten wax.  
  
Cullen leaned against the back of his chair with a sigh, fully aware that he was procrastinating.  
  
He had cause, though. What he had planned, what he intended to ask - it was not lightly done. Another commitment, freely chosen, its nature unlike what had beholden him to Chantry and Order, but no less important. More so by far, even.  
  
A faint feeling of dread laced his resolve, but also an elating flutter in the depths of his stomach that would have his sister tease him mercilessly. Though of course, in her letters, Mia had made it abundantly clear that she was nothing but happy for him.  
  
For them.  
  
Cullen smiled to himself and made quick work of putting his papers in order for tomorrow, movements brisk, retreat not an option.  
  
XXX  
  
"When exactly did that happen anyway?" Dorian wondered aloud after another deep swig from his beer. Nothing better after fresh bread, ham and cheese. Traveling seemed to have humbled his tastes. "Last time I checked, they met in the evenings for nothing more scandalous than games of chess."  
  
Sera, already deep into her cups, thanks to a dare from Iron Bull, snickered and made a lewd gesture. "Involves toys though, don't it?"  
  
"Please, my dear," Vivienne cut in, eating her own meal with delicately handled fork and knife and impeccable table manners, "do you not think it high time for you to fall asleep underneath the table? Let the adults talk."  
  
Cassandra scowled her disapproval, but by now she had more than enough practice in ignoring the resulting duel of exchanged barbs and witty repartee. As had everyone else, though Varric had gotten into the habit of taking notes for his next book.  
  
"There could be another, and far more rational, explanation for today's events."  
  
Dorian twirled his mustache, using the movement to discreetly wipe foam and crumbs from his lower lip. "Please, Seeker, just admit that the mere thought of such a romantic gesture has you swooning inside."  
  
Predictably, her response was a scornful sniff. "I am _not_ swooning."  
  
"Liar! Liar!" Sera shouted, cackling madly before slowly sliding from her chair onto the ground. The last sign of life from her was a slurred: "Breeches on fire..."  
  
"Ugh."  
  
Vivienne looked mildly intrigued. "Bull, darling, what exactly is in that concoction of yours? It occurs to me that it might be very useful. - As a sedative."  
  
"Sorry, ma'am. Secret recipe."  
  
Sliding his notebook into a hidden pocket Varric spoke up for the first time during their little celebration: "I'm just glad that Curly will be alright."  
  
"As am I."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Yeah!"  
  
"And if those two found a little happiness on the side? All the better." Varric shrugged, sounding just wistful enough to have a sobering effect on those seated around the table. "Gives me just about hope that this will turn out to be something other than a great tragedy."  
  
XXX  
  
"Inquisitor. Do you have a moment?"  
  
Aiden signed another document, filled with the elegant slopes and curls of Josephine's handwriting and set it aside, before looking up. Taking in the fact that Cullen did neither carry his sword nor more reports, he concluded that this was most likely a private matter.  
  
"For you? Always."  
  
Cullen smiled at that, but looking at him more closely, Aiden spotted fine worry lines that creased his brow and a tightness around his eyes. Knowing that Cullen, when tense, preferred to stand or pace, Aiden did not offer him a seat but rather got up himself.  
  
"Is something troubling you?"  
  
"No," Cullen hastened to reassure, scratching the back of his neck in a gesture one could only describe as sheepish. "It's - I need to tell you something."  
  
Curious now, Aiden tilted his head. "Go on."  
  
"You may have noticed that the Templar forces we welcomed at Skyhold included three spirit healers."  
  
Aiden had, though had it not been for the faint whispers of magic and their strong ties to the Fade, he would have overlooked them, gilded robes lost in a sea of shining armor, men and women, marching in formation. An impressive display, forces to be reckoned with.  
  
"I did." Raising one eyebrow, he added, "But now it occurs to me that I should have, perhaps, questioned their presence?"  
  
"They were there because they are needed, should a member of the Order be seriously injured. It is not common knowledge, but the lyrium a templar takes changes him physically, in ways that are irreversible." Cullen paused, pensive, and Aiden too remembered peaceful hours of slumber disturbed by vivid nightmares. "What allows them to dispel magic also prevents it from being worked on them, benign or not."  
  
Aiden did not like where this conversation was going. "So if I were to cast a protective barrier on you in battle or tried to heal your wounds - "  
  
"Both would fail. Templars are trained to not rely on the support of others, least of all mages, and to only trust their own skills." Cullen shrugged. "Within the confines of our usual duties that hardly put us at a disadvantage."  
  
Worry for someone else's well-being was a wild creature beyond logic. As such, Aiden had to bite back sharp words, to make it clear that he failed to feel reassured.  
  
"But it is possible to circumvent this side effect. Why else bring spirit healers?"  
  
"It is," Cullen assured, suddenly smiling softly, "and that is why I'm here. There is a ritual, a... communion of sorts. It is normally done without ceremony, out of necessity, and accompanied by a lot of Chantry paperwork. But I - it would allow you to heal me were anything to happen. And it would mean -- ," Cullen stopped abruptly, whatever speech he had prepared failing him. "My apologies. I'm... not explaining it very well."  
  
"No, ma vhenan," Aiden shook his head. "I understand perfectly."  
  
XXX  
  
Dorian had a moment only to take in the scene inside the infirmary before Cassandra pushed him right back out the door, along with two pale and shaky soldiers that were dispatched to find the Inquisitor. And, curiously, Ser Barris.  
  
It left him with the impression of a profusely bleeding gut wound, and Cullen's face, an ashen, twisted grimace. The healers had stripped him of the charred remains of his sundered armor, but clearly, this was an injury far beyond their abilities.  
  
Dorian fought hard to suppress a shudder as the stench of excrements made his stomach churn. "They need a spirit healer in there. Now!"  
  
"I have already sent for one," Cassandra assured him. Her accent was thicker than usual, the only hint that her stoic facade was no more than that. Well, that and the way she wrung her hands, not to forget the pallor of her skin, that made her scars stand out. "Venatori ambushed one of the training units."  
  
"Really? And our heroic Commander came to their rescue? I should have guessed. Not that I think it's important right now." Dorian flinched at another shout, very glad that the solid walls muffled most other sounds. "Maker! What is taking --"  
  
"Lady Pentaghast!" One of Leliana's people rushed around the corner and came to a skidding halt in front of them. "Ser Barris left two hours ago, taking his whole unit with him. There had been verified reports of blood magic and demons in --"  
  
"What?! Who else is available? There are protocols in place and with good reason!"  
  
"I am sorry, but there is no one else!"  
  
With that, the messenger bowed and fled, apparently not ready to face the Seeker's infamous fury. Under different circumstances Dorian might have found her reaction hilarious, but his gnawing worry had just gotten company by the feeling that something else was going on here that went straight over his head. And while that was unacceptable on a good day, it was far less so when a friend lay dying and no one did anything productive to save him.  
  
"What, exactly, is the problem? I know _I'm_ of no use here, but why not get Solas? He may not be a spirit healer in the traditional, Chantry approved sense, granted, but he could help."  
  
"No, Dorian, he could not. It would be like pouring water into a bottomless well." Cassandra paused, massaging her temple. "The Commander was once a templar, as such his body will reject any kind of magic worked on him. Spells of healing included."  
  
"Oh. Now that is just _brilliant_!"  
  
"It was considered a small price to pay for near immunity to magic," Cassandra said, with a deep frown that indicated she was not happy about it either, but saw no viable alternative. "And there is a way around it. A ritual."  
  
If he could not be three steps ahead of everyone else, Dorian could at least not be accused of being unable to keep up. "Ser Barris and his spirit healers."  
  
"Yes. I cannot tell you – Inquisitor!"  
  
In a previously unheard of event, Aiden did not only completely ignore Cassandra but near literally brushed her aside to gain entrance to the infirmary, door slamming shut behind him. Mere seconds later Dorian felt it, the influx of magic from the Fade and how it took hold. A little of its light spilled through the keyhole, green and golden.  
  
Dorian relaxed, only now realizing how tightly wound with worry he had been. "It's working. Our dear Commander should be fine."  
  
"Thank the Maker!"  
  
And just like that, Dorian found himself in the clutches of a bear hug he feared his reputation would never recover from. Because _of course_ it was then that the rest of their merry band of misfits arrived.  
  
XXX  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
Even separated through layers of fabric and metal, Cullen imagined that he could feel the heat of Aiden's palm on his bare skin, that hovered just shy of touching the spot where his heart pounded wildly.  
  
He took a calming breath, held it a moment, then exhaled. The process he would have been unable to explain if asked, but Cullen opened himself, let his senses unfurl, those that were not tied to any physical part of him, that reacted sensitive to magic in all its forms. - And usually traced it back to its source for one reason only: to shut it down with ruthless efficiency. Only now he made himself deliberately vulnerable, tearing down walls and barriers that were far from metaphorical.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Cullen felt it before his eyes saw it, a green light fringed with a golden glow, the reaching out and calling, the transition of power from the Fade into the realm beyond the Veil, channeled and given purpose, the manifestation of life energy granted by the spirit that served the Inquisitor.  
  
And then -  
  
Cullen sucked in a startled breath. Braced for pain on instinct, the gentle warmth flooding his veins and seeping into his core - that hollow place carved out by years of lyrium use - was overwhelming.  
  
This was what Aiden's magic, unique to him, felt like. No intent to harm, to cut open and twist, prodding insecurities and faults like festering wounds until they gave way to corruption and death and – No.  
  
No. That was in the past. One he would never shake, that had shaped him, yes, but he would not allow it to taint this moment, this sensation that was - soft. Tender. Yet also solid, strong enough to rely on. Protective. A kind regard, like being loved and held.  
  
If he was shaken, Aiden fared no better. Cullen could see his vivid blue eyes widening with fear that something might have gone wrong. He reacted just in time to hold his hand in place, covering it with his own.  
  
"No, don't stop." Cullen squeezed his fingers gently. "I'm alright."  
  
Aiden looked dubious, like a deer ready to bolt, but the flow of magic between them did not wane or cut off, its shine illuminating furniture and windows, mellowing planes and angles.  
  
"Truly?"  
  
Cullen bent a little, to make up for their difference in height, until their foreheads rested together. He inhaled the familiar scent of herbs, felt the soft brush of dark hair. "Yes. I - I just can't help expecting it to hurt. Ever since Kinloch Hold..."  
  
"And does it?"  
  
"No. Your magic is... it feels warm. Like you."  
  
The faintest flush of red rose into Aiden's cheeks, noticeable only this up close, worried frown and creased vallaslin smoothing out. Standing together like this was very intimate, so it seemed only right that they drifted into a kiss.  
  
And further, concentration lost and magic gone, tumbling right into the Inquisitor's ornate Orlesian bed.  
  
XXX  
  
"Wouldn't them make a great story?"  
  
"Nah," Varric shook his head. "Too sappy. Two halves, one whole and all that, sprinkled with puppies and rainbows. People would love it to tiny little pieces, but my editor would kill me."  
  
"Ah," Sera nodded, nibbling on another stone-hard cookie. "She kick another guy in the balls? Be rid of him?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"What ugly emotion: petty jealousy."  
  
Varric snorted. "Looking a little green there yourself, Tevinter."  
  
"Me? Perish the thought. _I_ get to ride the Bull." Dorian smirked. "And who wouldn't want that?"  
  
"No, thanks."  
  
"Me neither." Sera grimaced and spat another raisin down the battlements. "Got the wrong bits. 'Sides, I've seen it. You're not on top."  
  
Dorian's grin gained teeth, the signal for Varric to get his notebook out. He had a special devotee who would be delighted to get more smutty literature...  
  
XXX  
  
Cullen woke from a dreamless sleep to a body that was heavy, numb and as weak as a kitten's, combined a very peculiar sensation. He had only experienced it once before, albeit to a lesser degree, in the aftermath of an injury that had required the heavy use of healing spells.  
  
It made sense, considering that his last memory was of him shoving a terrified young recruit out of the way of a flash of lightning and fire, two Venatori spells crossing each other in mid-air. Then came pain and darkness, only interrupted by impressions of being lifted and moved, hands on him, voices. His own screams.  
  
And a warmth that was familiar and lingered in the wound that now began to make itself known in the tight pull of bandages around his middle and the stitches underneath. It twinged and burned, but seemed a small price to pay for such a close brush with death.  
  
Cullen forced his eyes open with difficulty. It took time for the sparsely furnished room to swim into focus, but none to identify the person sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked pale and worn, but his relieved smile was a more than welcome sight.  
  
"Aiden," he croaked, before a coughing fit with pain on its heels stole the breath from him.  
  
"Here."  
  
Supported by a strong hand, Cullen managed to drink from the offered cup of water, tiny sips of cool liquid, laced with bitter traces of elfroot extract, that soothed his parched throat.  
  
"My men --"  
  
"Are all safe and sound," Aiden interjected, having anticipated the question, "except for minor injuries. Rest now. Do not worry yourself."  
  
"As I did you?" Cullen asked, fighting the lure of sleep. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Oh, don't fret," Aiden murmured softly against his lips, bestowing a chaste kiss upon them. "I'll be sure to make you pay."  
  
Cullen heard a promise in those words and drifted off with a knowing smile, Aiden's magic still coursing through his veins.  
  
Like being held and loved, home not a place, but a person.


End file.
